Serenity
by BloodAndDiamonds
Summary: The silence envelopes the forest with a fear so daunting, even the Keeper feels it. Two hunters share the evening watch, and admit their own fears. A final conversation in the calm before the storm, before their lives will change forever.


The air is blissfully still in the heart of the Brecillian Forest. The wind makes no sound as it slowly winds itself around trees and shrubbery, and the breeze itself is oddly warm. To the humans of the nearby village, it promises a warm night with no worries over the roof possibly falling in, or cattle gates opening. To the Dalish occupying the forest, it's disconcerting.

The humans never really _notice_ the wind unless it's whistling wildly past their windows in the early hours of the morning, and blowing them over as they tend to their farms. It's plain ignorance, some Dalish think, if they can't even hear the soft blow of the wind even in a month so late in the spring. The Dalish notice it; the wind helps them to hide their footsteps when hunting, it helps them to correctly aim an arrow without the worry of it veering off course and it carries the voices to them of anyone in the area that shouldn't be.

The wind hides the Dalish almost as well as stealth hides a rogue.

There's worry in the air; the lack of any real _sound _is alarming to elves that have spent nearly their entire adult lives picking apart every noise to determine the source. The Keeper senses, but does not tell. He doesn't need to be close to her to notice it; she's sent out three quarters of the hunters tonight at varying distances, and the fear is so contagious that every cracking twig and scurrying rat is a farmer with a pitchfork to their minds.

Not that they've been run out of an area with pitchforks in a while, and the last time they were it was partly _his _fault.

Tamlen shifts his footing, ignoring the sound of the crunching of leaves beneath his feet in favour of listening to the sounds of the village less than a mile in front of him. He's close enough to the village that he can hear their roaring laughs in the small tavern, and he _shouldn't _be able to hear them despite his sharper hearing, and that makes everything even more terrifying. It's ironic; if he were human, he wouldn't be able to hear them at _all_, and he'd feel _better_. How _do _his city kin live with it? Are their alienages full of lights and sounds and voices enough to block out nature altogether? Or have they lost their sharper hearing along with their dignity?

Tamlen sneers, despite it all, and leans against the nearest tree. If anything heads his way, he knows he'll hear it. (And really, it had been _months _since he'd last been able to be so relaxed on a watch.) He idly wonders where his clanmate is; she was sent quarter of a mile west of where he was sent, to an equal distance away. It was probably as punishment for the brawling; she'd not been caught, and he _had _lied and told Marethari that it was only him involved, but it was pointless to do so. Marethari seemed to know everything.

"Speak of Fen'Harel and he shall come." Tamlen mutters under his breath, hearing and recognising a familiar light step on the forest floor. Twigs snap and leaves rustle in succession as the owner of the footsteps heads towards him. A few minutes pass, and his clanmate steps out into the small clearing where he is based. She crosses it in a few steps, and frowns when she reaches him.

"I heard that." Her voice is light, however, with no real annoyance to it. He grimaces.

"I don't doubt it. Weren't you supposed to be on watch somewhere else?" Tamlen asks, watching as her smaller body slinks past him –close, painfully so- to reach a tree opposite him. Mahariel snorts as she leans against it.

"Marethari is being paranoid. She sent me to keep watch elsewhere, yes. I don't think she realised I was facing only the steep side of a small mountain."

"Could you not have walked around it and then kept watch?" At this, she shakes her head and pushes herself off the tree.

"I walked along it towards the right, and at the point where I faced more forest and no mountain, I found Harshal keeping his watch there. We spoke for a while before I went back to my post and to the left. It ended close to here, so I figured I might as well keep watch with you. Do you know I could hear you breathing sixty yards off?" The words are said with a smirk, and Tamlen merely shrugs.

"I knew you'd come here."

"Of course you did." Mahariel starts to pace, back and forth in a two metre distance. Her scent hits his nose, vanilla and carving wood, and he tries to ignore the way his heart starts to speed up. In the silence wrapped around the forest, Mahariel can probably hear it. She gives a sigh, stopping and looking up slightly to lock eyes with his. "It's too quiet."

"I know. I never thought that I'd miss the sound of a chilling gale."

"Neither did I." Mahariel answers quickly, pausing in her words before she speaks up again. "However, you're lucky you left the tent before me; you left your lantern on. You're lucky I noticed it as I went out, else the aravels near the tent would have gone up in flames. _Then _Marethari would have something to punish us about." She smirks at him, and Tamlen feels like a bit of an idiot. Funny; Mahariel's the only one who can make him feel like that. Not even his father can do it anymore.

"Did I? I knew I'd forgotten something; I thought I'd left the chest open." He remarks. Mahariel gives him a dark look and points to her knee. A bruise is forming steadily under her kneepad and has discoloured the skin around it.

"You did. I tripped on my way out." She gives him a grin, before turning to face the direction of the village. "I was in there this morning." Quite quickly, most of the emotion leaves her voice leaving only a haunting tone of emptiness. She's worried, Tamlen thinks. He's the only one who knows that that particular tone comes out only when she is scared. "I heard a report from a woman's son when I was in the shop trading for supplies."

"What did you hear?"

"He's a soldier in the army. They're gathering at Ostagar. He wouldn't say why, but I heard him say that there's already hundreds of men and women there ready to fight. It's…foreboding, and more than worrisome. Whatever they're fighting against, you can guarantee it will reach the Dalish through the forest if Ostagar falls." Tamlen gives a laugh at this, but Mahariel simply keeps staring towards the village.

"Short of a few dozen dragons, I think we Dalish will be apt at defending ourselves." Tamlen nearly misses the way Mahariel tenses up at that, nearly misses how her eyes darken in the moonlight. He doesn't, though, and the realisation hits him like Fenarel hitting him with the butt of a sword.

"There's a dragon involved, isn't there?"

"An Archdemon. I couldn't get the human to say anymore, but the rest is obvious, no?" Mahariel starts to pace again, wringing her hands. "Combined with the silence of the forest lately, it just seems too strange. It'll only get quieter, I know it. It's like the calm before the storm; _something _is going to happen, and not knowing what that could be unnerves me." The words tumble from her mouth before she can stop them, and Tamlen has to place a gloved hand over her mouth to stop her from starting again.

"Something happened in that village. What happened?" He asks her warily, ignoring the tingle that runs through him despite the gloved touch.

"Nothing. I was probably just being paranoid; whatever is worrying Marethari is affecting us all. If _she _doesn't feel safe with a few dozen hunters on watch at a one time, what hope is there for us?" Tamlen gives her a look that blatantly states 'I don't believe that' and Mahariel gives a sigh. "A dog followed me through the village. And I don't mean 'close on my heels for food' type of followed. It kept ducking behind buildings when I turned to see it, and then slunk along the forest as I came back to the camp. It wasn't a Mabari, either, just a simple, grey dog. It was trying very hard not to be seen by me." Mahariel gives a sigh as she speaks, and Tamlen instinctively places a hand on her shoulder.

"You're just being paranoid." He says it even though he doesn't believe it; it could have been a mage for all they knew. It could even have been _Merrill_, but granted, she hadn't been learning any shape shifting lately, and the only form she could change into –with difficulty- was an owl. Something flickers in Mahariel's eyes as they move towards the hand on his shoulder, and it's something he recognises very well. Hesitation, want, _need_. He keeps telling himself that he'll make a move, that _tomorrow _he'll let her know how he feels because although those feelings are very mutual, it's so very _nerve-wracking_.

Tomorrow night, he'll do it. He'll ask her then (but what if she says _no?) _and hope she'll give him the answer that lies behind her eyes. He removes his hand, and he certainly doesn't miss the flicker of disappointment behind her eyes. Another night gone, and Creators, she's been waiting for him to ask for _months_. He's not even sure why he gets nervous, now; they've been sharing a tent since they were _five_, for Creators sake.

The moment passes, and Mahariel glances back towards the village.

"This silence, this feeling… it's daunting. Even the humans sense it; they were quiet when I went into the village this morning."

"They're certainly loud enough, now." Tamlen remarks, nodding his head in the direction of the village.

"It's amazing what alcohol seems to be able to do. But I still don't like it. I need to go _hunt_, but Master Ilen wants me to help him tomorrow, and I couldn't say no to him. I was supposed to be hunting with you, too." Mahariel frowns, a morose and frightened expression.

"Why couldn't you say no?"

"He had my carving knife in his hand as he asked. And he was pointing it at me." Tamlen laughs at her answer, and it earns a bright smile to grace Mahariel's face momentarily.

"You'll live. We have the watch shift tomorrow night, anyway." Mahariel nods at his words, and a silence descends on them. It's comfortable, simply the silence that comes when two people have known each other so long that there can never be any chance of an awkward silence. Tamlen glances over to her as she keeps watch with him. Tomorrow night, he thinks, he'll definitely ask her.

Their destinies change and their paths part at the entrance to the ruin early next morning, and for them, there is no tomorrow night.


End file.
